


Meet the Lost Verse

by LostxVerse



Series: Lost Verse [1]
Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 20:17:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3622860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostxVerse/pseuds/LostxVerse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This gives brief introductions to the original characters for the Lost Verse world. Each chapter is a different character's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meet the Lost Verse

I wish I could say that I was normal, but in all honestly that isn’t something I’ve been able to claim for years. I’m a werewolf, and it isn’t something that I originally accepted. I was fifteen when I killed someone, although I guess I’m getting ahead of myself a bit.

My name is Violetta Rae Thane, and calling me that will most likely get you no response from me. I either go by Vie, or really any variation of my first name that isn’t the entirety of it. My parents were the kind of love story you watch on all those crappy movies; my mother was a poor coffee maker at my father’s cooperation. He came from old, elite money and his father was testing him out in their new location in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. He met her, he was smitten, and then they fell in love. My grandfather didn’t like it, she wasn’t the right class or social standing, and he gave my father an ultimatum when he was nineteen, to either break up with my mother or to be cast out of the family. A week later my father proposed, and a year later I came along.

I was two when the accident happened, my mother was taking me home from the hospital and my father was at a party they were supposed to go to together. A drunk driver hit us, and by some miracle I survived. My mother didn’t, and my father couldn’t handle me without her. He left me in charge to my grandmother, and went crawling back to his father and the money. I never heard from him, and I grew up on the streets they tell you not to go down in Baton Rouge. My grandmother hardly knew where I was, she was too busy working two jobs, and so she had no idea the sort of trouble I ran into. Such as the almost gang I joined, and the odd habit of picking locks I started. I was pretty good, too.

By the time I was fifteen my group of so called friends had gotten too big for the streets we were on. In our neighborhood there was a huge rivalry between two different gangs, and we found ourselves stuck in the middle. We were on one’s turf, we all lived there, but between us we ran both sides drugs. I didn’t run drugs, I specifically stuck to our house breaks ins, I had lines I wouldn’t cross and that was one. When we tried to stop selling one sides, they got pretty violent. It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen death before, wasn’t like I hadn’t known friends, but they started to purposefully take out those who were close to our would be leader. I was never so scared in my life, especially considering I was dating him. I saw our best friend shot on my front yard, and would have joined him had I not been running late. There was a deal made after that, but I wasn’t told any part of it, but I wouldn’t have been. I was the trade.

I remember that about Levi, even though I was with him there probably wasn’t a loyal bone in his body. I put the pieces together later, when I was less hurt and in denial that it could happen. He made a deal that they’d give me up and in turn the rest of the group could join their gang. There were a couple of guys who thought I was cute from the gang, and the fact that I was Levi’s girlfriend made the deal worth it. I was told to meet in a spot for a break in, and I was met in an alley to be raped and killed.

Fifteen, and I killed them. Luck, sheer dumb luck and the fact that I was smaller and faster. Someone dropped their gun and I shot. The other two were too shocked and I shot them, too, and then I ran. I didn’t know where I was going, but I ran with the clothes on my back and didn’t look back. As if being a fifteen year old runaway with no money wasn’t hard enough, the first full moon brought with it some very harsh changes.

I hadn’t known my father’s family was part of an elite group of werewolves, old pack. I’d had my first kill, and so the first full moon I changed. I felt every bit the monster I’d become, and felt I deserved it. I continued running, stealing when I could to survive. Those days were blurs of sleeping on benches, bridges, and anywhere I could. I was too stubborn to die, though, to selfish to give up. I was a fighter through and through.

I made it to New Orleans when I met him, my savior. I was sixteen by then, and I was in some back alley behind a bar fighting off two people who thought I’d be easy prey. They were thinner than I was, and that said a lot. He came out from behind the bar as I took the second one down, and I panicked thinking he’d call the cops on me. I threatened him, like I had something to actually threaten him with. He’d laughed, which had spiked my anger, but then he’d offered me food, room, and clothes. I was too hungry to argue-much anyways, and thus began our weird friendship.  
I learned he wasn’t that much older than I was, and that he was a witch. Expression, he called what he did, and I was slightly enthralled. It was so much better than being the monster I was, but I never shared that with him. He knew what I thought of myself, it wasn’t much of a secret. I stayed there for months, but things grew were tense with the entire supernatural community. I wasn’t blind to it, but I was very good at staying hidden. Eventually he told me of a hybrid he knew, Niklaus Mikaelson, who was able to create hybrids. The thought of being able to control myself was great, but equally terrifying at the thought of being a hybrid. He told me he was going, though, to Mystic Falls, and so I went a bit ahead of him and waited. I didn’t know what to do with my life, but at some point I realized I needed him in it. I didn’t understand why, didn’t label. I’m no good with that, a bit too broken to be able to love or be loved properly, but he was important to me.

Time passed, drama happened, and I found myself face to face with the family I didn’t know. My cousin had tracked me down via my father’s orders. Apparently by triggering my curse I was worth something to them, and even more so to my father when he found out how much I’d grown to look like the mother I could never remember. I was a fool, too caught in my childish antics to have that parental love I never got, and I agreed to go to New York with them out of fear of the feelings I’d started to develop for a vampire in Mystic Falls. New York was trouble, and I learned more than how to stand and look pretty in proper company. My step-mother found me threatening, and more than one threat was made on my life. I have the scar to prove it, but I kept my mouth shut. I knew better, and I needed things from my father that I couldn’t get elsewhere. I stuck it out, and ended up in college. I wanted to go for literature, but my grandfather frowned on it. I ended up stuck double majoring, Lit and Law. The two make no sense, but I’ve been finding myself rather good at the whole lawyer nonsense.

I couldn’t stay in New York, of course. It dragged me down, and besides I left without telling my best friend a word. Zane, my witch, hadn’t heard from me in a year. I was pretty sure I’d messed that up, and when I went to New Orleans (he’d moved back there in the time since I’d been gone) we almost were through. I’d hurt him, and I shouldn’t have. But I was always the sinner, and he always the saint. He welcomed me back into his life. Friends, best friends, and we would always be it seemed. Perhaps our souls were intertwined, it felt like that at days. 

I’m nineteen going on twenty, but I’ve thrown myself into this war. It’s his home, and if the vampires, werewolves, and witches in this town want to have it out, let them. If he wasn’t here, if he wasn’t involved, I wouldn’t care. But he is, so I am. Thankfully they have classes online, or who knows how I’d manage to get this all past my father. I don’t think I’d care, though, nor would he have a right to judge me. He was once a sinner, too.


End file.
